


Third and Long

by cerie



Category: The Newsroom (US TV)
Genre: AU, College Football, F/M, Nebraska
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-08
Updated: 2014-09-11
Packaged: 2018-01-07 23:24:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1125611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cerie/pseuds/cerie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will hadn’t been keen on having his biography written but the school had impressed upon him that it would look good if the program got some press and they had given him a choice of three reporters to do the job - he had picked MacKenzie McHale on account of liking her legs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. the spring red & white game

**Author's Note:**

> This is an AU idea I had where Will was a college football coach. Throughout the course of the show, Will has been seen watching numerous football games and he went to Nebraska, which has a very strong and storied football program.
> 
> This fic will mostly follow the schedule of the 2010 season (the last season the Huskers were in the Big 12) but the losses will become wins with the exception of the Texas game.
> 
> Eventually it will earn that high rating :)

_April 17, 2010_

Will hadn’t been keen on having his biography written but the school had impressed upon him that it would look good if the program got some press and they had given him a choice of three reporters to do the job - he had picked MacKenzie McHale on account of liking her legs. 

MacKenzie McHale is an unlikely choice for a sports reporter, especially a college football reporter, but she knows her shit. She’s English, which makes it weird to start with but there’s nobody in the industry who knows more about pass completion statistics and rushing yards than MacKenzie and Will is comfortable with her coming in and seeing how his program works. The arrangement is such: MacKenzie lives in Lincoln for the year and comes to every practice, every game. She’s right there with the coaches at all times and has an insider’s perspective when it comes to writing about Will and the 2010 Cornhuskers. Everyone’s profile is raised. Everyone goes home happy. 

When he gets out onto the field to start the Red and White game, MacKenzie is there, interviewing one of his line coaches about their defense strategy. While he’s all for her doing a nice, feel-good piece on his players and his team, he draws the line at her wheedling company secrets out of his assistants and he draws up close, closing the distance between them in long strides. He touches her elbow and cocks his head, wanting to draw her away from the field and somewhere they can speak more quietly.

“I’m not going to have you print my defense strategy for the whole fucking season before we even get started,” he says, scowling deep and MacKenzie frowns a little before understanding begins to dawn on her face. Her cheeks turn a little pink and she shakes her head. “What? No. I’m just taking notes. I’m not going to be publishing anything until the season is through anyway. You have nothing to worry about. I have absolutely no college football allegiances in spite of my current career.” 

Will finds that a little suspect but, then again, English, so he lets it lie. He adjusts his hat and tugs his glasses off to clean them - more out of nervous habit than actually needing to wipe anything off. Every coach has his idiosyncrasies and this is Will’s. MacKenzie is more than used to reporting from the sidelines and knows when the fuck to get out of the way, which is good, considering that she’s slight and Will thinks a stiff breeze might knock her over. Throughout the whole game, she scribbles furiously in her notebook and takes notes upon notes. Will is going to take notes too but his will be later when he watches the film of this scrimmage and his notes are going to determine who’s a starter and who isn’t. 

He has a hell of a lot of work to do.

_April 18th, 2010_

“All right, let’s get the basics down. William Duncan McAvoy, born March 31st, 1955, former Heisman Trophy winner, former All-American and both of those were at Nebraska?” Will nods. He wishes he could tell her to shave a few years off that age but everyone can just fucking Google it and he doesn’t want to be caught in vanity. MacKenzie has a glossy photo that she’s drawn out of her bag and puts it on the desk between them - it’s him, back in his glory days in ‘76. While the hair is a little ridiculous, Will wishes he still had that _much_ of it.

“Yeah, that’s me. Then it was three years in the NFL, all with Detroit, and then I got hired as an assistant at Texas. You know, if you’re going to keep asking me all this shit about myself, you should start coughing things up too. I don’t want to be the only one embarrassing himself over here.” MacKenzie looks up from her notebook and gives him a little smile, mostly bashful. It’s kind of cute, considering she’s a goddamned reporter. He thinks that under different circumstances, he might really, really like to buy her a drink.

“Well, all right. MacKenzie McHale, born on September 7th, 1975. London. Educated at Cambridge, came to America to do a masters in journalism, fell into sports reporting. I was originally going to write political treatises, you know. Scathing indictments about the corruption in my country and your country and everywhere else. I was very idealistic. Now I’m happy to write about torn ACLs and whose left tackle got arrested for drug possession. That would...not be Nebraska’s, of course,” she quickly clarifies. 

Better not be his team. He isn’t afraid to show his boys the nasty side of his temper, something that MacKenzie McHale is going to be seeing a hell of a lot of if she’s with him all fall. It’s only four months but it’s nonstop for those four months with hardly any breaks. By October, Will is usually on the half empty side of the scotch bottle and November can always be a heartbreaker. He sighs and leans back in his chair. 

“So the little English girl decides to report on football. Kind of ironic, isn’t it?” MacKenzie colors darkly and primly informs him that he’s using the term ironic incorrectly and she wouldn’t expect him to know that considering football players and football coaches put their sports first and their studies second. It’s not something Will can really refute but he’s not one of those players and never has been. 

“Actually, no. I’ve got a Finance degree so I didn’t do a lot of traipsing around the English department. I figured if I wanted to actually be able to do something after I got out of school, knowing how to manage money would be a good idea. Turns out, it was. To continue your invasive questioning, I was a walk-on. I played under Tom Osborne and he was big on letting the walk-ons in. My scholarship came after I’d been on the team for a year. Turns out I had a hell of an arm.” 

MacKenzie is still writing everything down, her notes copious and detailed. She looks up and bites her lower lip just slightly. “And you played quarterback? You’re quite big for that, you know. Though, really, with those hands I guess you’d make a fantastic QB. Wrap right around the football.” Will is pretty sure she doesn’t intend that as a come on but it sounds like one anyway and he feels...good. He hasn’t really flirted with anyone since he got divorced and he didn’t really flirt before he got married either. He’s shitty at it. MacKenzie seems to do it unintentionally and the attention feels nice, however meaningless it is. 

“QB, yeah. I liked to pass the ball, hardly ever ran. Barely ever got sacked either, which was amazing considering I was probably 180 soaking wet back in those days.” He’d been kind of a beanpole as a kid, tall and lanky. Everyone assumed he’d be playing basketball when he went off to high school but the basketball team had never really called to him. He’d pitched in the spring and played QB in the fall for Waverly High School and the proudest day of his life was when he got his acceptance letter to Nebraska. Well, that and when he graduated. He’d always put a big importance on graduating from college since he was the first in his family to do so.

MacKenzie scribbles a few more things in her notebook before closing it up and offering her hand to him to shake. “I think that’s all I need to start out. I’ll be back in the fall to travel with you but for now, I think I’ll start working on compiling the history on you and send it to you for your approval? I’d really like you to be involved in every part of the process.” 

Will shakes her hand, squeezing it a little before letting go. “I’ll try my best not to make your life a living hell if you agree to do the same for me?” 

Yeah. He definitely thinks he picked the right reporter, especially when she turns to leave his office and he watches her walk away, long legs and perfect ass shown off to perfection by a pencil skirt and sky-high heels.


	2. taking the western out of kentucky

_September 4th, 2010_

The first game of the season is a home game against Western Kentucky and while Will has drilled into his boys that every game is a chance to play their best, he’s not particularly worried about this one. Western Kentucky is little better than an FCS team and it’s one of the easiest non-conference games he could have scheduled. Will’s of the opinion that it’s shitty for a big program to beat up on a little one but he doesn’t get to make all the calls when it comes to scheduling games. That’s higher up than him.

MacKenzie insists on being on the sidelines and while Will doesn’t give her a headset (against NCAA rules) she still gets to be under him like an annoying little duckling the entire time. She peppers him with questions before the game starts before he finally has to be terse with her to get her to just _stop_ and let him do his job; she abandons him to drill his offensive coordinator instead. Fuck. MacKenzie McHale is going to be the bane of his existence for the next few months. 

Tonight, he’s starting a freshman. Not a redshirt who’s technically a sophomore but an honest-to-God freshman and it’s either going to be the most brilliant thing he’s ever done or an epic failure. Considering this is Western Kentucky and they normally go 2-10, Will likes his chances. It’s better to fuck up on this game versus, say, Oklahoma or Missouri where one misstep in the first quarter can cost them the whole game. This isn’t high-stakes football tonight and if all else fails, he can pull Martin out and put Gordon in as a sub. 

Five minutes in, he can see that this was a beautiful choice. The drives have been phenomenal so far and they’re up on the board. Everything is working in concert and there’s some quality football being played tonight even if the team they’re playing against is a gimme. It gives him some faith in his roster for the rest of the season even if it’s a bit premature to start calling it this early along. 

His boys manage to sew this one up nicely at 49-10 and while he’s fielding interviews from every reporter in the goddamned country, he’s only looking for one. When he doesn’t see MacKenzie, he reaches into his pocket and texts her, asking her to meet him at a 24 hour diner that’s not far from campus. It’s crap, mostly, but they have an amazing bacon, egg and cheese sandwich and it’s usually where he goes to decompress after a home game, be it a win or a loss. Tonight he’s feeling good and riding high on victory so he suspects he’ll be good company. He really hopes MacKenzie isn’t around on a night when he loses.

***

It’s pushing midnight when Will slides into the booth opposite MacKenzie and she’s sipping at a cup of coffee that she primly informs him is her third of the evening. Yeah, well, he didn’t think he’d get fucking detained by that many people after a game against such an easy team, either, and is halfway tempted to tell MacKenzie she can get her soundbytes from ESPN because he’s done talking for the night. Halfway tempted, except he looks at her and she’s fucking gorgeous and he knows he won’t have the tone to back that up. He’s never had so much raw attraction to a woman other than his ex-wife and that had landed him with alimony and misery. It’s probably a bad idea to start chasing it with a leggy reporter.

“So what pushed you to start the freshman tonight? Martin? Why did you start him?” Will is about to answer when the waitress comes by to take their orders and while MacKenzie orders pancakes Will gets a double order of bacon, egg and cheese. He thinks he can afford the calories since tonight was a win and he can just run harder with the team during practice tomorrow.

“He’s ready. I’ve never seen someone so good right out of the blocks without a year to redshirt first. It’s good, it means I get four years with him if he doesn’t choose to leave early for the draft and I don’t have to rely on him graduating late. He’s got good hustle, a great arm. He’s smart and knows how to scramble. I don’t have to worry about him getting the ball to someone before he gets sacked and I had that problem last season.” MacKenzie is scribbling a few notes, covering the pages of her ever-present notebook with dark ink and Will touches her wrist lightly.

“Enough shop talk. How’d you like your first Huskers game on the sidelines?” MacKenzie looks up and arches a brow. “Hardly my first. I used to be a field reporter for ESPN before I decided to write my book, which you are well aware of. You asked for me specifically, did you not?” Will can easily admit that while he did recognize her name and her legs he didn’t really _know_ her. Not on a personal level. 

“Well, how’d you enjoy it anyway? It’s something, isn’t it?” Will is proud of his school and his team and nobody can tell him any different. MacKenzie smiles and nods, a little pink coloring her cheeks. She’s animated about describing how it felt down on the field, words bubbling out in combinations Will has never thought to use them in before. It’s gorgeous, honestly, and he can tell she’s damned good at what she does.

“I will always like college football best. I used to report on NFL games when I first got started in sports and it’s not nearly the raw excitement that the college games bring. There’s just something magical about standing on turf on a Saturday night and wondering what the scoreboard is going to bring. Will Lady Luck shine on us tonight? Is fickle Fortune on the side of the red and white? There’s nothing else I’ve ever experienced that’s like it and I hope to...well, I hope to convey that in my book.”

Will can’t help but smile at her. He loves a woman who is good at what she does and MacKenzie is the best at what she does. She’s the best at telling a story and selling it to the masses and he’s glad he picked her for this little project even if it’s vanity and something he’d been somewhat unwilling to do at first. He thinks MacKenzie will be a fine fit for him and his team. 

“Pretty sure it’s going to come across just fine. So, planning to come to practice the rest of this week?” MacKenzie nods, eager, then her face blanks for a moment as if she’s thinking about something. 

“Damn. My birthday’s Tuesday night. I was planning to fly to New York to have dinner with friends and come back on Wednesday but I guess that’s not particularly prudent since you’ll be doing press that day, won’t you? And I’ll need to be there for that?” He nods. Tuesdays are usually press days and he schedules long strings of interviews so that he can get less of them on Saturday. It usually works out pretty well. 

“Yeah, Tuesday is film day too, which you’re going to want to be there for. I want you in there with the team when we’re watching it.” He thinks for a moment and this is kind of a risk but he does it anyway. He hasn’t got a lot to lose, right?

“Hey, what if I took you out for your birthday? Believe it or not, there’s a couple nice places here in Lincoln.” He couples the invitation with a little smile that he hopes is charming and MacKenzie giggles through her acceptance. He’s aware that it sounds more than a little like a date and he really doesn’t give a fuck; MacKenzie is attractive and charming and deserves to get to go out for her birthday even though she’s knee deep in this assignment. 

“I’d love to go. Where shall I meet you?” Will gives her the address and number of a place on O Street and MacKenzie promises that she’ll be there. 

_September 7th, 2010_

This restaurant doesn’t really have a suit and tie dress code but Will dresses up anyway. It feels a little stiff after years of living in the uniform of khaki pants and polo shirts and he tugs at the tie to loosen it while he looks around for MacKenzie. When he spots her at the bar, he has to resist the urge to bite his knuckles to keep from whistling at her. She’s in a black dress and her long, long legs are encased in stockings with little seams running up the back and she’s wearing another pair of those sky-high heels. They have red soles. He’s never seen shoes with red soles but he bets they’re some kind of designer and he wants more than anything to have them digging in the small of his back while he’s fucking her. Damn. 

MacKenzie turns and spots him, a brilliant smile on her face. She slides off the barstool and they head to their table, Will’s hand at her elbow helping to guide her through the maze of tables and chairs and people. He pulls her chair out for her and she laughs. “I am unaccustomed to such treatment,” she says, laughing lightly and he shakes his head.

“Get used to it. Pretty women should always go out with gentlemen,” he says and it’s true. His mother didn’t raise him to treat women poorly and he’s trying to impress MacKenzie. He’s pulling out all the stops. Once they’re settled and wine and appetizers are on the way, Will pulls out her present. It’s an autographed copy of Friday Night Lights, which he thinks is pretty fitting since MacKenzie’s doing something really similar with his team this year. 

“You didn’t have to get me a present, Will!” MacKenzie admonishes, taking the package from him and unwrapping it carefully. She opens the book and traces the signature from the author and pulls out a slip of paper where Will wrote his own birthday wishes:

> Mac - 
> 
> I thought you might like this because you’re tagging along this season. It’s one of my favorites.
> 
> All my best,
> 
> Will.

MacKenzie puts the book in her handbag and turns to look at him, all bright smiles and brighter eyes. She’s pleased with the gift and the conversation comes easily, so easily that it’s pushing ten before Will even thinks to look at his watch. They’re being kicked out of the restaurant so Will pays and escorts her out, walking her to her car. He hates that they came in separate cars because he can’t really offer to drive her home and really, the date is going to have to end here. It’s too bad but MacKenzie isn’t the kind of woman he wants to rush things with. She’s better than a fuck and a goodbye.

“I had a wonderful time. Thank you, Will,” she says, voice soft. Her skin is luminous in the pale moonlight and Will can’t resist leaning in and cupping her cheek, sliding his hand up so he can tuck a bit of hair back behind her ear. MacKenzie tips her face up just a bit, barely noticeable, and Will leans down and kisses her. It’s a short kiss but no less hot because of it. It’s a taste and a tease of what’s to come and Will very, very much wants to go out with her again. Damn. 

“Goodnight, MacKenzie. See you Saturday?” MacKenzie nods, sending her hair falling forward against her cheeks again.

“Absolutely. Saturday.”


	3. vandalizing idaho

_September 11th, 2010_

Will hates morning games. He knows it’s because they’re on central time and most of the major networks are headquartered on the east coast but he’d much rather be playing football on a Saturday night than before noon. What he hates most about it is that they don’t give them a fucking kickoff time until the last possible minute and they usually delay it because that’s the kind of luck he has. Yeah. 

He’d called MacKenzie late the night before to tell her that kickoff was eleven and now they’re pushing it another half hour. MacKenzie is dressed in trim little jeans that make her ass look even better than usual and a slim fit tee with University of Nebraska Athletics printed across the front. Maybe it’s just because they shared a kiss a few nights ago but there’s no other women in the world for him right now. Nobody looks as fucking good as MacKenzie McHale and Will wants to find a way to see more of her. 

It’s this distraction that keeps him from watching his boys warm up and when they get out on the field, they let Idaho put 17 points on the board. When he pulls them in for the half, there’s hell to pay and Will lets MacKenzie follow him into the locker room. Maybe if they’re sufficiently embarrassed by his reporter following them around they’ll straighten their acts up in the second half. He hopes so, anyway. “Where the _fuck_ is my defense? Are you fucking kidding me? Don’t let the fuckers score on you again.”

Will feels no need to censure himself on MacKenzie’s account. If she can’t handle foul mouthed coaches, she reports on the wrong sport and she’s sure as fuck at the wrong school if she can’t deal with him. To her credit, she doesn’t say anything. All she does is continue to scribble notes in her ever-present notebook and follow him around, occasionally asking what his plans are for starters in the next half. He doesn’t respond. She’ll find out who he’s starting in a few minutes and he doesn’t feel the need to spoon feed her what she needs to know to write her book. So long as she writes the truth, he couldn’t give a fuck. 

They pull through in the second half and keep Idaho from running the ball, locking them down with man to man coverage. It’s good enough and while Will wishes he could erase the points they did score on them, a win is a win. It’s a sloppier win than he wants but at the end of the day, his team’s got more than the other and their 2-0 record is preserved. The thing about college football is that Saturday can change everything. You can be the number one team in the country with an undefeated record and any given Saturday, it can be ripped away from you. Maybe his boys don’t see it that way just yet but Will does. He’s been around long enough on both sides of the ball to know that things can change in an instant. 

He berates them in the locker room a little after the game is over and lets them know that this week’s practices are going to be murder. They’re playing Washington, a good team gone to seed, and he has no doubt in his mind that Sarkisian can pull them out of the slump. He’s a damn good coach. It’s an away game, too, and there’s flights to deal with and hotels to book; Will wonders if MacKenzie is going to fly along with them or if she’s going to stay behind in Lincoln and just watch the game on TV. He doesn’t think he can fault her if she doesn’t want to travel with him and his boys all the way to fucking Seattle but...part of him hopes she’s planning on it anyway. He’d like to spend some time with her that isn’t in Lincoln, Nebraska. 

He pulls his phone out while his defensive coordinator is laying into his team and texts her. “The usual spot? 5 PM?” It’s better than being out in the middle of the night but eating breakfast at five in the afternoon is kind of pathetic - unless you’re Will McAvoy and superstitious as fuck about football and the rituals thereof. No matter what, win or loss, he always goes to that little rundown diner and has his bacon, egg and cheese and he’s going to do it now with MacKenzie for the second week in a row.

***

“You’re late,” MacKenzie says cheekily, beaming at him from her spot in the corner booth. Will rolls his eyes and checks his watch, establishing that yeah, he is a few minutes late. Still, 5:00 PM had been a decent estimate for when he’d get away from reporters and he doesn’t know why MacKenzie’s giving him that look other than to fuck with him. It’s a sign of affection, he guesses, so he plays at being gruff and orders for the both of them - his sandwich and her pancakes. The waitress pops her gum and heads back to the kitchen to put the ticket in and Will’s focus is completely on MacKenzie once again.

“I’m on time. Had to lay into my defense for forgetting how to do their fucking jobs. Just because it’s Idaho doesn’t mean they can drop the ball. Did you see how many turnovers there were?” MacKenzie nods. “You should have run man to man the whole time. They had some runners on that team who kept breaking through. Though, you hardly need advice from me. That’s what you pay a defensive coordinator for, is it not?” Will doesn’t pay him, the school does, but he catches her drift. He reaches over to another table and snags an ash tray, plunking it down in front of him. He pulls out his cigarettes and knocks one out of the pack in a practiced manner, sliding it between his lips without thinking. “You mind if I smoke?”

MacKenzie shakes her head. “Only if you don’t offer me one in kind,” she says, extending slim fingers to take a cigarette from him. Will snorts out a low laugh and hands her a cigarette, lighting it for her before lighting his own. He takes a long drag and leans back in the booth. MacKenzie McHale just continues to surprise him. She’s feminine, with those long legs and the trim little skirts she likes to wear anywhere other than on a football field but she knows as much about football as an assistant coach and she doesn’t mind bumming a smoke when she needs it. He hasn’t been this attracted, this _fascinated_ in a long time. 

“Yeah, we’ve got to work on run defense. Been focusing mostly on pass defense,” he agrees. “So we’re doing that this week. You flying to Seattle with me or are you taking your own flight?” MacKenzie laughs a little and takes a drag on her cigarette, turning her head slightly so that when she exhales, it’s not in his face. “I was intending to fly with you. Next to you, if I can manage? It might be a good time to hash out some more of your personal biography details.” 

Will nods. He figures the best time to get that done is when she has a captive audience and while he doesn’t really look forward to it, he does look forward to getting to spend the better part of eight hours seated next to MacKenzie McHale. Maybe he can pry a little more out of her about her own personal life in exchange. He wants to know anything and everything that makes up MacKenzie McHale. 

Their food comes and they eat quietly for a few minutes, pausing only to sip at coffee or reach for another plate. It’s greasy and Will can feel his cholesterol ticking up but goddamn if it isn’t good, especially with the kind of company he’s got right now. There’s nobody he likes spending time with right now more than MacKenzie, even if she peppers him with damned annoying questions half the time. 

“I’ll get you our hotel information so you can book a room. It’d be easier to just stay at the same place we’re staying.”

MacKenzie stands up and leans across the table, plucking another cigarette from the open pack currently residing in his shirt pocket. She nicks his lighter too and lights the cigarette before dropping the lighter back down beside his pack of Marlboros. “You’re assuming I’m not going to be sleeping in your bed, Will McAvoy, and that is a fallacious assumption. Just book the one room. I’m confident I won’t need a separate one.”

Well then. Will turns a little and watches her leave, eyes sliding over the gorgeous curve of her ass in those tight, tight jeans. MacKenzie McHale is just fucking _full_ of surprises.


	4. stomping seattle

_September 12th, 2010_

 

> From: McAvoy, Will  
>  To: (Cornhuskers Football), (Nebraska Coaches)  
>  CC: McHale, MacKenzie  
>  Subject: flights
> 
> Be here Thursday at noon to go to the airport. If you’re late, we’re going without you.
> 
> From: McHale, MacKenzie  
>  To: (Cornhuskers Football), (Nebraska Coaches), McAvoy, Will  
>  Subject: RE: flights
> 
> Currently taking bids as to which strapping young man gets to carry my six pieces of luggage onto the plane! Best offer wins, I’ll inform you Thursday.
> 
> From: McAvoy, Will  
>  To: (Cornhuskers Football), (Nebraska Coaches)  
>  CC: McHale, MacKenzie  
>  Subject: RE: flights
> 
> Well, I’m hoping after I suck on those tits of yours, you’ll let me carry your bags.
> 
> From: Church, Lonny  
>  To: McAvoy, Will  
>  Subject: MCAVOY
> 
> Learn how not to use reply all? You just told the whole team you’re planning to fuck an ESPN reporter.

Will pours himself a glass of scotch and nurses it for the next two hours, deleting every email that comes in. He knows his team is probably harassing the shit out of him and frankly, he probably deserves it. MacKenzie hasn’t sent him an email back and he hopes he hasn’t ruined his chances of getting laid just because he accidentally announced them to the world. Still, he’s got her number and he calls her up.

“So, about accidentally telling the entirety of the Nebraska football team what I plan to do to your tits as soon as I get you alone...I didn’t mean to do that. Should I be booking us one room or two?”

MacKenzie laughs warmly on the other end of the line and Will imagines if this were back when he was in high school, she might be twirling the cord in her fingers while she thought about what to say. It’s not and she’s on an iPhone but he guesses the mental image can still apply decades later? He sure as shit feels like he’s in high school half the time when he’s around her.

“Hardly offended. Flattered, really, even if I’m probably going to be teased mercilessly on the plane. If the entirety of the Nebraska football program knows I’m sleeping with you, then the entirety of the Nebraska football program knows the sky is blue. Oh.” MacKenzie giggles a little and Will can just imagine her face, eyes crinkled up and hand coming up to hide her mouth a little. Goddamn, she’s adorable. He’s not sure how a woman over the age of thirty is supposed to be adorable but MacKenzie has it down pat.

“I rhymed. Oops. Anyway, I don’t care. Book just the one room, if you’d like. I fully intend on fucking you before the week is out. Actually, it could be arranged right now if you want.” Will thinks about it long and hard for a second but there’s a part of him that’s a little old-fashioned, a part of him that wants to take her on a fantastic date in Seattle and show her a good time before he takes her back to his hotel room. While he can take her on a date in Lincoln (and plans to, when they get back) he thinks it will be a little more special if they wait on fucking until after he’s done something spectacular for her.

“Will do, ma’am. We fly out Thursday afternoon. We’re up in first with the line coordinators but the boys are back in coach so there will be a little privacy if you want to ask me some more questions for the book.” Sometimes Will forgets she’s writing a book about him. They talk so easily that sharing things about his past seems like just getting to know MacKenzie instead of working. It’s been a long time since Will has known someone he can open up to as easily as MacKenzie and while he knows it’s part of her job, he likes to think part of it is because of their personal connection too.

_September 14th, 2010_

When Will drives down to the practice field, he spots someone running with long, lithe legs and he thinks it might be MacKenzie. He eases a little closer and it _is_. Her choice in running attire is just a sports bra and a pair of microscopic red shorts with “NEBRASKA” written across the ass. He’s never understood this particular fashion trend but he thinks he can be swayed to like it when it’s MacKenzie with a big neon sign asking him to look at her ass. So, he looks. He slows down and rolls down the window to call out to her and gets a look at that ass up close and accidentally leans on the horn a little. The noise MacKenzie makes is equal parts hilarious and blood-curdling and she yanks out her headphones.

“Who the fu...oh. Hi, Will,” she says, calming down a little. Her cheeks and chest are splotched red and her breasts are heaving a little as she’s trying to catch her breath. Goddamn. Will has never been the kind of man to openly leer at a woman but right now he feels like some cartoon character with his tongue hanging out and he tries to reel it in a little. There’s no sense in freaking her out by being an asshole.

“Yeah, sorry. Accidentally leaned on the horn,” he says, giving her his best attempt at an aw shucks grin. He’s pretty good at it after years of practice with his mother and girls in college and it’s not hard to go back to being a Nebraska farmboy. In a lot of ways, he’s never been anything else. He’s always played football and spent the better part of his life in a ten mile radius of where he grew up. Other than being in Detroit when he was in the NFL and down in Texas for a few years, he’s been in Lincoln. There’s no place else he’d rather be.

“It’s all right. I just thought I’d been hit by the car. I quickly realized that I was still upright so it couldn’t be the case.” She leans in through the window and gives him a little smile and tilts her head a bit, clearly angling for something. Will has no idea what she’s after but he’s pretty sure she doesn’t have to work him over for it. He’s damn near smitten with her and if she wants the moon, he’ll get her some stars to match.

“Could I possibly con you into driving me back to my own car? I think I was a bit too ambitious in my choice to run all the way down here. I think I’ve done two miles already. Please? I know you’re about to run practice and all but…”

Will is about to tell her to hop in when a group of his first stringers walk by on their way to practice. They whistle at MacKenzie and one of them, a cornerback, yells out “Nice tits!” Will slams his car into park and gets out, slamming the car door loud enough to startle the group of guys. He’s about to say something colorful when MacKenzie grins and waves back at the players. “Thanks! They’re real!”

Well. That’s one way to handle it, he guesses, but he still scowls. “Hey, so, all of you? I want you running suicides on the field yesterday. And two hundred pushups each. I’m not fucking kidding.” The players run off, grumbling under their breath and Will thinks maybe he let them off too light. He turns to look at MacKenzie. “I’m really sorry.”

She laughs and it’s such a sweet, sweet sound. “I’m flattered, really, but they’d all crush me. I’m a very slight woman.” Will goes around to the other side of the car and opens the door for her, wanting to show her some manners since his players apparently don’t fucking have any. He’s going to have to give them a lecture on how to treat women and plans to do that as soon as he drives MacKenzie back to her car.

It’s a short little drive and when it’s over, MacKenzie leans over and cups his cheek before kissing him. It catches him off guard and he’s not really sure what to do with his hands or mouth for a moment and it takes him a few seconds to catch up. Once he does, he cups her shoulder with one hand and the other wanders down and cups her breast, hating the fact that her sports bra is made of fucking neoprene or something and he can’t feel anything. His mouth is hot and desperate on hers and when he finally manages to pull away, he’s not sure if the plaintive little whimper is from him or her. He brushes his thumb against her lower lip, liking how it’s a little pink and swollen.

“You should go run practice,” she murmurs and as much as he hates to admit it, she’s right. He leans in and kisses her one last time quickly and lets her go. He’s heading back to practice to put the fear of God into his boys but his mind’s across town with MacKenzie McHale and her microscopic running shorts.

He’s got it bad.

_September 16th, 2010_

Their flight leaves at two but Will has everyone turn up on campus at noon so he can make sure everyone’s there and accounted for. MacKenzie comes lugging three heavy bags, one of which she says has expensive camera equipment in and is only to be handled by someone she can watch like a hawk. Will takes the camera bag and carries it on himself along with his own duffel bag; he never has to bring an actual suitcase unless he’s going to be gone for ten or fifteen days. He can usually get by with his duffel because he doesn’t need that much shit. MacKenzie, on the other hand, has an abundance of shit and he finds it more than a little amusing. She’s high-maintenance and that’s perfectly all right.

The flight is a couple hours long and MacKenzie parks herself next to him, asking him question after question about his personal life. She moves from college to those years he was with the NFL and Will...doesn’t really want to talk about it. He’d been married then to a woman named Nina and had hated being away from his wife - especially when he found out said wife was cheating on him while he was on the road. It was hard. He’d ended up leaving the NFL after a torn ACL and didn’t really regret it all that much. He got divorced, packed up and moved to Texas. End of story.

Except not really, because MacKenzie’s still prying. He finally reaches over and puts his hand against her wrist. “Mac, seriously. That’s enough for today. I know it’s all in the interest of putting all this shit down on paper to say how awesome I am but I’m tired of reliving painful shit for the moment. Just...give it a break.” MacKenzie gives him a soft, concerned look but she puts down her pen and notepad and leans back in her seat, sighing heavily. After a moment or two, she reaches her hand over and starts rubbing the back of his neck. That feels _nice_.

“Just trying to do my job,” she assures him.

 

***

When they land, it’s still early afternoon in Seattle even though they’re tired and Will ends up heading straight to the hotel with MacKenzie. He only booked one room, per her request, but now he’s getting a little antsy as to whether or not she actually intended that or if he’s somehow being an asshole. MacKenzie doesn’t say anything and when they get to the room and check in, she flops down on the bed.

“Have I ever told you how much I hate flying? Let’s have a nap.” Well. Maybe he shouldn’t have worried after all. MacKenzie digs out a soft, comfortable t-shirt and another pair of microscopic running shorts and heads into the bathroom to change. Will isn’t sure what to do so he settles for his boxers and t-shirt and when she comes out of the bathroom, he barely resists the urge to whistle. Her legs are long, pale and smooth and he wants to get his hands all over them but he guesses he ought to refrain since she wants to take a nap. Still, he’s thinking about it and he hopes she is too.

She slides into bed and he spoons up behind her, lips brushing against the back of her neck as his hand lays warm against her stomach. He thinks he could fall hard and fast for MacKenzie McHale and that’s a dangerous prospect, considering the last time he fell hard for a woman ended in a messy divorce that he’s still paying for. He pushes that out of his mind and tries to sleep, enjoying the warmth and comfort he gets just by being close to someone else for a little while.

 

***

When they wake up several hours later, it’s because MacKenzie has gotten a series of phone calls and texts from a friend of hers named Sloan Sabbith. Sloan is a financial guru who lives in Seattle and is, as MacKenzie describes it, painfully single and ready to mingle. Will isn’t sure why MacKenzie is telling him this (while this Sloan might be great, he’s got his eye on Mac and not her) until she insinuates that maybe they should all go out for dinner and drinks with Lonny. Oh. Well, that’s a hell of a lot better, then.

Dinner turns out to be fine except that for as hot as she is, Sloan is just as socially awkward and she actually asks if she can tap Lonny’s pecs at the dinner table. He lets her but it’s clear that this isn’t a normal request for him and he’s a little embarrassed; Will has two glasses of wine a hell of a lot faster than you ought to drink premier cru. MacKenzie seems determined to make everything work and she drags them out to some bar where there’s dancing and the room is dark and everything costs three times as much as it should.

Will parks himself on a couch with Lonny while MacKenzie drags Sloan out to dance and tilts his head a little when he sees his sort-of maybe date grinding up on her friend. It’s hot, no question, but Will wonders if he has competition that he just didn’t consider yet. Eventually, the women come back and Will has no question about MacKenzie’s loyalties because she drapes herself in his lap and gives him a long, messy kiss. He doesn’t taste alcohol on her tongue so he knows she isn’t drunk but she’s definitely a little wild and uninhibited. He manages to get MacKenzie off his lap long enough to toss down money for his drinks and tell Lonny they’re heading back; things seem to be going better with Sloan so Lonny barely acknowledges him. Good.

He can barely let them back into the hotel room because MacKenzie is all over him, mouth against his neck and hands wandering all over his body. He hasn’t felt this good about a woman in a long, long time and judging by how he can’t keep MacKenzie off him, the feeling seems to be mutual. They stumble into the hotel room and Will strips quickly, laying back against the bed and watching as MacKenzie takes a slower, more deliberate path.

She’s wearing a little shirt that’s got no back, bright red, and when she slips the silk off and over her head, there’s no bra to stand in the way of him staring at her full, gorgeous breasts. MacKenzie rolls her hips a little and steps out of her heels before unbuttoning her slim black trousers and pushing them down. There’s nothing but red lace under here, sheer, and when she turns he can see that it’s a goddamn thong and her ass is right there in his face. He loves MacKenzie’s ass. She’s slender but she still has delicious curves - soft breasts and rounded hips and a pert, perky little ass. Will cups her hips in his hands and drags her back so she’s standing between his spread knees and leans in to kiss the base of her spine. MacKenzie sighs and he takes it for a good sign, moving his kisses lower and biting lightly against the curve of her ass. He catches the thong between his teeth and drags it down, helping MacKenzie shimmy out of it so she’s completely naked, and runs two fingers lightly between her thighs; she’s so wet that his fingers come away slick and he groans. The sound she makes is so delicious that he does it again only this time, he drags his fingers against her ass too, right where the thong sat a minute or two ago.

“You’ll need lubricant for that,” MacKenzie says succinctly and Will’s shocked. He was just fucking around, not actually intending to go for it but the way she says it has him turned on like nothing else. She hadn’t said _no_ , just that they didn’t have what they needed to go for it. MacKenzie is not exactly like the other women he’s been with over the years and it just makes him that much more into her. God _damn_. He tugs her down to lay her against the bed and gets between her thighs, spreading her with his thumbs before pressing his mouth against her. He’s always loved going down on a woman, loved smelling and tasting her and sliding his tongue against slick skin until he brings her off. He especially loves it with MacKenzie because she’s vocal about what she wants and pushes his head down. She rocks her hips up against his face until he fixes his mouth against her clit and sucks, not letting up until she’s falling apart under him.

He’s falling pretty fucking hard for MacKenzie McHale.

He kisses and touches her through the orgasm and coaxes her into another, gentler this time, before sliding up and rocking his own hips against her so his dick slips and slides against her but doesn’t go in. MacKenzie whines in frustration and slams her hips up, taking him in one smooth stroke and it’s all Will can do to hold his shit together as he presses into her again and again. It’s been a long fucking time for him and he comes a little faster than he wants; he thinks it’s a good thing he’s over fifty and not a teenager because otherwise he wouldn’t have stood a chance. Not with MacKenzie McHale.

He draws her into his arms and holds her close, fingertips tracing little nonsense patterns against the sweat-slicked skin of her back. He could get used to this on a regular basis and not just in Seattle hotel rooms, not just when rain is pelting against the windows and there’s grey clouds rolling in overnight.

_September 18th, 2010_

Gameday is early, since they’re on the west coast and need to be over and done in time for the SEC games to play in primetime. Normally Will hates the SEC and will bitch about it as much as he can and as loudly as he can but he’s still floating on the high of MacKenzie. They’d woken up Friday morning and fucked again, slower and softer, and again Friday night after going to Sloan’s for an amazing Japanese-style meal and hours and hours of sake and talking about any and everything. This weekend has been phenomenal in many ways and Will thinks even if the boys lose, he doesn’t give a fuck - he’s got MacKenzie.

Still, everything changes once he’s on the field and his headset’s linked up and he’s calling plays and yelling at his defense, trying to get them to get it the fuck together. The offense is moving well enough to compensate and they score over and over again, pushing the score up to 56-21. Just as he’s about to head to the locker room to give his post-game talk to the team, he catches MacKenzie’s eye and she’s smiling so wide, so impossibly happy that he doesn’t think there’s _anything_ that can burst this bubble for him.

Nothing at all.


	5. stomping down south dakota

_September 20th, 2010_

Will always takes Mondays off, which makes life kind of difficult when he wants to date someone because that’s not the typical weekend for most women. But MacKenzie isn’t most women so when he calls her up on Monday afternoon, her voice is warm and relaxed over the phone and she sounds like she’s perfectly content to settle in for a long phone call. Will is a fan of those, oh yes, but not when MacKenzie could actually be at his house and not separated by several miles.

“Well, if you’re not doing anything and you don’t think it will be too much of a distraction, you’re welcome to head over here and work on your book. I can throw some burgers on the grill and pop some beers, make a night of it?” His voice is a little hesitant at the end, as if sounding like he’s not really sure about wanting to do that and MacKenzie seems to pick up on it.

“You don’t have to act like I’m going to say no. I’ll be right over,” she says and abruptly hangs up the phone. Will stares at it for a moment, wondering if the call dropped and she’s going to call back and when she doesn’t, he shrugs and gets up to start clearing away some of the clutter that has collected. He’s terrible about keeping his mail organized so while the rest of his house is immaculate, his office is a mess and it’s driving him insane. He’s so wrapped up in it that it takes two rings of the doorbell and a sharp knock at the door before he makes his way out there to let her in. 

And _shit_. MacKenzie is wearing a pair of cutoff denim shorts that are short enough that he can see the pockets peeking out beneath the hem. Her legs look fantastic and he wonders if she does this on purpose; Will has always been a leg man and he’s never really been shy about showing it. When MacKenzie first came out, he’d noticed she wore things that flattered her bust - scoop-necks and v-necks. Will looked, of course, but he’s much more interested in the long, lean legs she has and how she moves. The curve of her calves is sleek and strong and her pale skin is dotted with freckles that look like flecks of cinnamon on cream. He wants to run his hands all over her. 

“Hi,” she murmurs, tucking her hands in her back pockets and rocking a little on her feet in a way that reminds him of how a teenage girl subtly flirts to command a room. Will has never been particularly good at reacting to flirting - not even several decades and a marriage removed from high school. It always makes him feel like a gangly teenage boy all over again. Will starts to say something and can’t get the words out and ends up asking her if she wants to help throw things on the grill. Not good but hey, not terrible.

MacKenzie follows him out to the back deck and Will busies himself with laying steaks and burgers on the grill. He thinks if he does this, he won’t be leering at MacKenzie and making a general fool of himself. He knows they’ve slept together already but this is still a new relationship and he wants her to know that he’s in this to know her and care about her and not just to fuck her because it’s fun. He’s never been the kind of man who is particularly interested in just hooking up and he doesn’t make a habit of taking women to bed that he doesn’t like outside of it. 

“I didn’t bring anything I was working on,” MacKenzie says after they’ve started to eat. It’s nice out today, warm and sunny, so they just stayed on the deck instead of heading back into the house. MacKenzie has a beer bottle balanced on the railing next to her and she’s currently working on peeling the label away from her bottle. Normally that kind of fiddling gets on his nerves but not with her. It just seems endearing. 

“I’m not looking at films or writing plays today, so. You’re in good company,” Will assures her. He hopes she isn’t feeling guilty about not bringing her book or notes to work on since he had asked her over for a date and not to work. This is all about getting to know her and know her as someone other than a biographer or a bed partner. He wants to know _MacKenzie_ , what makes her up, and he wants to know her hopes and dreams and biggest fears. Maybe that’s a little too intense for her right now but Will thinks he can keep it in check and only let loose on the reins a little at the time. “You don’t have to feel guilty if you want to just kick back and have a good time. I’m going to.”

MacKenzie visibly relaxes and shoots him a little grin. “Well, I guess there’s nothing to do but relax and have a good time, then, since you insist. You have a beautiful house, Will. It’s a shame you live all by yourself.” She colors pink as if she realizes how that sounds and Will lifts a hand to stave off any awkward apologies. There’s nothing he hates more than that kind of awkward, accidental slip-up becoming a big deal when it shouldn’t be.

“Yeah, kind of a shame. I love it here, though. It’s about the nicest thing about living in Nebraska. Sometimes I think I want to go somewhere else and I travel enough to get a good look at most parts of the country but there’s something about this place that’s just _home_ to me. I don’t think I’m ever going to feel truly at home anywhere other than Lincoln, Nebraska. But I guess you probably wouldn’t get that, right? City girl?”

MacKenzie bites at her lower lip a little and nods. “I have always had a bit of wanderlust. My father was an ambassador, you see, so I’ve lived in dozens of countries and traveled to dozens more on top of that. I’ve always been fond of New York but since I’m a sports journalist, I have to go where my story takes me. New York is all fine and good for mainstream journalism but I would rather be out in the field and on the sidelines and I can’t do that from behind a desk in Manhattan, you know? If that brings me to Eugene, Oregon and Lincoln, Nebraska and College Station, Texas, so be it.”

They finish their food and Will gathers up the plates to carry them inside. He knows he _should_ clean off the grill but he has no desire to do that when he can dump these dishes into the dishwasher and get back into the same room as MacKenzie. he’s never been so fascinated by a woman, not even Nina at first, and she’s gotten under his skin in a way that he thinks he’s never going to be tired of exploring. He wants to know everything about her. He wants to learn everything and mold himself to fit, wants to explore where this relationship is going. It’s so early but he feels like he just dove off a cliff and is lost in the free-fall of new love. He doesn’t think MacKenzie has followed him just yet but he hopes it will be soon. 

When he puts the last dish into the dishwasher, he turns and MacKenzie is right there. He touches his hands to her waist and tugs her close. MacKenzie lifts her hands and slides them around his neck and presses up against him; Will can feel every soft curve of her body molded up against his and he slides his hands down her back and down to cup her ass, pulling her up close against him. 

It’s not an easy kiss. It’s rough and desperate, pent-up need from the last day or so welling up and spilling over. His tongue slides up against hers and his teeth nibble and tug at her lower lip. There’s something about kissing that Will has always loved, maybe even as much as he loves sex. He likes the intimacy of sharing breath with someone that you care about and having a moment where there’s nothing else in the world but you and that other person. Her hands slide down and up under his t-shirt, warm and soft against his back and he feels the scratch of her nails when he slants his mouth over hers and deepens the kiss. 

Will has all these grand plans about taking her to bed but in the end, he just backs her up against the kitchen counter and slides his hands up to cup her hips and boost her up so she can sit there. She pops the button on her cutoffs and shimmies her hips to work them down along with a pair of pink panties in delicate lace. Will slides his hands up under her ass and scoops her up, bending down just enough that he can press a kiss beneath her navel. He inhales lightly and grins; he’s always loved this even if he’s never exactly done it with a woman who’s currently sprawled on his kitchen counter. 

He doesn’t waste any time. He licks a slow stripe just where her hip and thigh meet before sealing his mouth against her and working his tongue against her clit. MacKenzie cries out and her elbow knocks a glass into the sink. Will hears the shattering and the tinkle of broken glass but it’s something that can be dealt with later and not while he’s got his face buried between her thighs. She’s slick beneath his tongue and when he sucks hard against her clit and drags his teeth lightly against the soft, delicate folds the muscles in her thighs tighten and she lets out a high-pitched whimper. He works through it, licking and sucking as she quivers beneath him and only after she’s done and sighs softly does he pull his head back up. His hands immediately go to his jeans and shoves them down, boxers too, and it’s nothing to bring her forward to the edge of the counter and slide into her. 

She’s so hot and tight, snug around him, and Will thrusts into her a little harder than he normally would. Her noises are soft-pitched and when he looks into her eyes, he can see they’re a little unfocused and hazy. Her skin is blotchy, flushed red, and there’s a sheen of sweat against her forehead and upper lip because she’s so worked up. He imagines he just looks like a fucking mess but there’s nothing more beautiful in the world than MacKenzie McHale right now. She’s the sum of all things bright and beautiful. When he comes, he thrusts into her one last time and clutches her hips tight, fingers pressing into soft skin and leaving dark marks.

His knees are a little weaker than he’d like when he draws away and his breath is just as ragged as hers. 

_September 25th, 2010_

Will doesn’t know what the fuck’s up with his team. Admittedly, he’s been a little distracted this week with MacKenzie in and out of his bed on a regular basis and maybe in the haze of lust and new love, he hasn’t exactly been pushing his boys to do what they need to do to excel but when there’s four fucking fumbles in one game against an FCS team, something is seriously wrong.

They win, 17 to 3, but that doesn’t mean he’s letting them off easy. He yanks off his headset after the game is called and delivers some profanity-laden soundbites to the sideline reporters that he’s sure are going to be the butt of jokes on Sportscenter later tonight. He doesn’t care. All he cares about right now is laying into his team for not getting the job done cleanly and well and they were a bad team tonight. Sure, it’s just South Dakota, but Texas is in three weeks and that’s a hell of a bigger challenge than this week. They need to look ahead.

After he finishes with the post-game, MacKenzie catches him storming out of the locker room and touches his wrist lightly. He snaps at her and she looks wounded, big brown eyes darkening a little and skin flushing and Will hates himself for it. He’s in a foul mood because his football team didn’t live up to his own exacting standards of perfection but that doesn’t mean he should shit on MacKenzie in the process.

“Look, I’m sorry. I’m just...they fucked it up back there and we got the win but I would rather get the win flawlessly and not with a bunch of stupid mistakes.”

MacKenzie nods and bites her lip a little, something Will notices that she does when she feels nervous. He hates this. He hates that he made her feel nervous, or worried, and it reminds him of his father and all the fucked up shit he used to inflict on his mom and his siblings when he was a kid. He’s never wanted a woman to look at him the way MacKenzie just did and he hopes she’ll let it pass without worrying about what lies beneath Will’s concern. He’s not ready to go into the John McAvoy baggage. He might not ever be ready. 

“You’re harder on yourself than anyone. You’re blaming yourself for their failures tonight, not them, and that’s what makes the chewing out even less pleasurable. You know they don’t deserve to be yelled at but you can’t exactly yell at yourself for failing them as a coach. Is that about the way of it?” MacKenzie has an uncanny knack for reading him and Will wonders how a person gets good at that. How does a person realize they can see the things that make someone else up, see the gears that turn in their head? It’s not something he’s ever been good at. Emotionally, he’s an idiot. 

“Yeah, I guess I am. Say, you want to go meet me at the diner? We’ve got to go have breakfast before the day’s out.” MacKenzie rocks on her feet a little as if she’s trying to decide whether or not she wants to kiss him and she’s close to him, so close he can smell the faint scent of her perfume. Will closes his eyes and inhales a bit to drink it in.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”


	6. taking a bye

_September 30th, 2010_

It’s a bye week, which means he should be working his boys down to the bone to make up for the mistakes last week but Will doesn’t really care. All he cares about is planning a little weekend getaway for MacKenzie since these opportunities rarely come up during football season. If they were in the off-season, he could take her on a week long vacation but Will doesn’t dare do that. If the alumni got wind of it, his job might be on the line. It’s safer to take off for two days than for a whole week of fun. 

There’s a little bed and breakfast that claims to be an hour from everywhere and Will figures that means it’s in the middle of nowhere - an hour from Lincoln _and_ Omaha? Really? But the middle of nowhere is kind of the point. He’s not really interested in doing anything touristy, he just wants a chance to be alone with MacKenzie without the pressures of the team breathing down his neck or reporters crawling him. MacKenzie, of course, is an exception to the reporter rule and he thinks having a relationship with a reporter puts him in a particularly weird position; MacKenzie never uses it to her advantage. 

When he tells her to pack light, he doesn’t expect three bags. MacKenzie looks like she’s brought half the world with her and he peeks into one of the bags and finds camera equipment. Of course. 

“Oh no. You are not working this weekend,” he admonishes, tucking the camera equipment inside his house where it’ll be safe. “Not even allowed. This is vacation and you’re not going to be pumping me for information for your book.

MacKenzie gives him a crooked little grin that makes his heart do flips in his chest. God. He’s never been as into a woman as he is into her and she seems to have caught on and is pressing her advantage. Goddamn. He could have gone his whole life without MacKenzie McHale getting wind of the fact that he’s falling in love with her. “Well, if you want to call it _pumping_ you for information, feel free, but I tend to look at it as a hell of a lot more romantic.”

Yeah. He’s done for. She has him, all of him, and Will thinks she’s just now caught on to just how much she does own him. Shit. It’s something that he never wanted to reveal because if she knows about it, she can use it and hurt him if she chooses. He doesn’t think MacKenzie would ever hurt him and he trusts her but it still makes him feel vulnerable in a way he doesn’t really care for. 

“Yeah, yeah. No work. Just us,” he says, making sure the only bag she has left is the one with her actual clothes in it. She does keep one camera, but it’s a smaller personal one and he figures that might be because she wants some pictures of them to put on her desk or whatever. It occurs to him that he’s never actually seen MacKenzie’s house or her workspace so there’s no knowing whether or not she even has a desk to put a photo of them on but he likes to think that she will anyway. He’s an optimist and a romantic.

***

A road trip with MacKenzie is kind of a pleasant experience, if only because she sings along off-key to every song that comes on the radio and insists on turning it up to full blast when there’s a stretch of 80s songs while they cruise down the highway. Will had never been particularly enamored of the 80s but he remembers that MacKenzie is a good fifteen or twenty years younger than he is and her tastes are...yeah. Different.

When they pull up to the bed and breakfast, Will gets their bags out and checks them in at the front desk. They’re apparently staying in the Rose Room, which overlooks a pretty little garden and gets plenty of sunlight from the wide windows all around. It’s a southern exposure room, whatever that’s supposed to mean, and while he doesn’t care MacKenzie seems excited about the lighting opportunities for photography. Will’s suddenly thinking that maybe he should have let her keep one of her DSLRs if there’s so much good photography going on. 

When they get up to the room, MacKenzie sprawls across the bed and lets out a little sigh as if the hour long car ride has really just taken everything out of her. It’s kind of cute, in a way, and Will gives her a dopey little smile while he works on getting all their shit put away. That done, he takes out his guitar (Martin, acoustic, old - just the way he likes it) and settles in a chair opposite the bed. 

“I had no idea that you played,” MacKenzie murmurs, watching him with interest. “I know nothing about musical instruments except that I am not meant to touch them lest I torture the entire world with the sound I elicit from them.” Will could have guessed that based on her singing but he decides that it was kind of sweet she didn’t care how she sounded and he isn’t going to rain on that particular parade. Not when there are other parades he wants to be the grand marshal of later tonight. 

Instead, he strums a few chords on his guitar and starts singing in a low, melodious voice. Will has always been an excellent musician and if he hadn’t been so wrapped up in football for most of his life, he might have done it professionally. He thinks he could have hacked majoring in music if he hadn’t had hours and hours of football practice (it’s just not possible to major in anything with a studio requirement when you’re playing college ball) and it would have been a lot more satisfying than finance. The math behind chord progressions has always been soothing to him, the rhythm of it, and there’s nothing he has ever loved more than just sitting down with a guitar and picking out a new composition. 

There’s a few hard and fast rules for pop music and Will tries to avoid them. He doesn’t want his shit sounding like a slightly-off version of Canon in D and he plays with the music a little, uses deceptive little phrases and ties them in with a haunting little melody. This is one that he hasn’t exactly put lyrics to yet, just music, but somehow he starts singing MacKenzie’s name about halfway through. He doesn’t dare look up at her - as much as he’s confident about, well, everything, this is something personal to him that he doesn’t want scrutinized. 

When he finishes, he chances looking up at MacKenzie and sees that she has a soft look on his face that he can’t quite read. Maybe she thinks this is stupid and over the top but if she does, she’s doing a good job of hiding it because Will feels like...well, he feels like she might have liked it. Her mouth curves up into a soft little smile.

“You wrote a song for me,” she murmurs, seemingly shocked. “You wrote a song for me about how much you love me. I don’t exactly know what to do with that.” Will panics for half a moment before MacKenzie crooks her finger at him to draw him close. He joins her on the bed, sitting just on the edge, and MacKenzie shifts so that her head is in his lap. It’s a natural enough thing to stroke her hair and he does, playing with the soft strands while she talks a little.

“I’ve never had a boy write a song for me before,” she murmurs, smiling up at him. He wants to protest that he’s not a boy, not at all, but MacKenzie’s eyes are a little star struck and he thinks possibly that it’s not worth the argument. She seems impressed, as much as something like that can impress someone, and Will is a little shocked since he hadn’t done it to impress her. It was more just what he was thinking and feeling and it came out because he wasn’t paying attention enough to keep that shit to himself. 

“I’ve never written a song for a girl before,” he murmurs back. MacKenzie shifts so she’s sitting in his lap, long legs straddling him, and it’s a natural enough thing to put his hands at her waist and lean in to kiss her. Kissing MacKenzie is one of the most pleasant things he’s ever done because she doesn’t treat it like a means to an end. Kissing isn’t just a required checkpoint on the trip to sex but, instead, it’s something that MacKenzie seems to enjoy in and of itself. Will does too. He’s always loved kissing a woman, learning the shape and taste of her mouth and the way she sighs if he positions his hands just so. He skims his hands up under her blouse and cups her breasts, thumbs rubbing her nipples through the thin lace of her bra. MacKenzie whimpers and squirms a little on his lap; Will doesn’t know if that’s on purpose or not but she’s riding his dick and making it so that he wants to push this past kissing a little faster than he plans to. Damn. 

MacKenzie eventually pulls away just enough that he can look into her face and she’s beautiful. Her mouth is swollen from kissing and her cheeks are flushed, bringing warm color to her pale skin. Will reaches up and tucks her hair back behind her ears, laughing when the silky strands just fall forward anyway; it’s too soft and too straight to do anything else. 

“I do love you, Mac. You know that, right?”

MacKenzie blushes and nods before pushing against his chest to knock him down against the bed, all thoughts of discussion and feelings long forgotten.


	7. clobbering kansas state

_October 4th, 2010_

“So are you or are you not particularly worried about the KSU football team?” Will is currently in his office reviewing piles and piles of film and the last person he expected to drop in on him unannounced was MacKenzie. But she’s here, some kind of frou frou coffee drink in tow, and she’s currently perched on the edge of his desk in a pair of shorts with little red cherries printed all over them.

Will is never going to understand how a woman in her mid thirties can simultaneously look like an actual adult and a goddamn teenager but somehow MacKenzie McHale manages it beautifully. He scowls at her and tugs her ponytail, getting a little noise of protest to squeak past her perfect, glossy lips. He bets anything she’s wearing cherry lipgloss to match those cherries on her ass and he kind of wants to die he’s so turned on.

But that’s neither here nor there. 

“Is this an official question or are you just trying to be a pest?” Will’s tone is grumpy but he feels his lips turning up in a smile because it’s really hard to stay annoyed with MacKenzie for any stretch of time, especially when she looks so goddamned cute. MacKenzie sucks thoughtfully at her straw and gives him a little smile that announces to God and country that she is absolutely up to no good. 

“No reason, really. I just wanted to know what my chances were of getting you to ditch the office and come play with me?” Will takes a look at his watch and determines he’s got about three hours before practice starts. In three hours, he can do a lot, and if MacKenzie wants to go play, he is more than happy to have a little playdate with her. He grins at her. “All signs look good for a playdate, so long as we’re back in time for practice. We can be a little late and my assistant coaches can start it but I’ve got to show up at some point.”

MacKenzie laughs a little and finishes off her drink, tossing it into his trashcan in one smooth arc. She leans in and when she does, he catches a scent of her lipgloss. Cherry, just like he’d hoped it would be. “There is absolutely no reason why we can’t play here, you know. I don’t need a bed or anything fancy, Coach McAvoy. I just need you.”

Holy shit. Will has never even been remotely tempted to use his office for anything but work but right now MacKenzie is making a really good case for using it for a decidedly-not work purpose. A really good case. A compelling case with a preponderance of evidence that he simply doesn’t have a defense against. He leans in and whispers against her cheek. “Well, Ms. McHale, I’m afraid I’m just going to have to bend you over this desk. How do you feel about that?”

MacKenzie kisses him fiercely, her teeth tugging at his lower lip and her tongue sliding right up against his. Will barely breaks away just long enough to murmur, “You are the only thing on this desk I’ve wanted to do all week,” which is cheesy and ridiculous but MacKenzie lets out a nervous little giggle and he guesses it still had the right effect. He gets up from his chair and goes around to the other side of the desk so he can pull her into his arms and really kiss her - hands wandering all over her back and down those little shorts so he can cup her ass. His fingers collide with hers as they try to work her shorts and panties down and off and MacKenzie kicks them away to a corner of his office before popping up onto his desk, legs spread wide. 

Will knows his back and knees are going to be screaming in about 2.5 seconds but he can’t resist bending down just enough so he can cup MacKenzie’s hips and bury his face in her cunt. She squeals a little, utterly delighted, and he seals his mouth over her. He draws just the edge of his teeth against her folds, ever so lightly, and when he slides his tongue through the same path she sighs. He’s fucking around right now, teasing her, and when her fingers bury themselves into his hair and start to pull, he gets down to business and closes his lips around her clit to suck. He’s not fucking around anymore.

There’s nothing he loves more than being this close to a woman, to being face deep in her and knowing that every single move he makes is bringing her closer and closer to just losing it. He especially loves it with MacKenzie because she’s just so goddamn reactive to everything he does and when she comes, she lets out a little high pitched noise that Will is pretty sure could shatter glass if it gets any higher. He hopes that doesn’t happen if only because he doesn’t want to explain to maintenance how he shattered both his window and the trophy case behind his desk. 

He straightens and fumbles with his belt and fly, pushing his jeans down and sliding right into her. She fits him perfectly. Maybe it’s a cliche or something but Will doesn’t really give a fuck, not when her cunt is perfectly tight around him and not when sliding into her feels in some strange way like coming home. There’s nobody else in the world he’d fuck on his goddamn desk in the middle of the afternoon but MacKenzie McHale and if he gets caught, he’s just going to give the dean a shit eating grin and point to those cherry-printed shorts. Really, he can’t be expected to defend himself when she comes loaded for bear like that, right? It was all her idea. He was just going along with it. 

“Fuck me harder, Billy,” she whispers, voice a little raspy, and he complies. He’s not ever going to tell her no and especially not about something like this where he wants the sex just as fucking much as she does. He presses into her deep, in long, sure strokes and it’s only when his voice is ragged and there’s sweat rolling down his spine that his thrusts get shorter and erratic. MacKenzie coaxes him through it, encouraging him in that deceptively sweet voice of hers and when he comes, he digs his fingers into her thighs hard enough to leave little finger-shaped bruises. He presses his forehead against hers. 

“Shit, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” 

MacKenzie tuts a little beneath her breath. “Hardly. I wanted it just like that, Billy, and don’t you dare apologize to me for blowing my mind. If I’ve got splinters in my ass, it’s worth it.” Will hadn’t really thought about _that_ but since MacKenzie doesn’t seem to be bothered, he’s not going to be. He moves away just enough that she can slide off the desk and he hands her a Kleenex, which she waves away. 

“Don’t need it. I’m going straight home anyway.” 

Well damned if that just doesn’t turn him on even more. MacKenzie McHale is just chock full of surprises today. 

_October 7th, 2010_

It turns out that Will had nothing to worry about with the KSU Wildcats but he likes to be prepared anyway. Better to be prepared and come out stomping the competition than to be underprepared and barely squeak out a win, or, worse, come out losing. He doesn’t like to lose. He absolutely does not want to lose this year because he wants a shot at the goddamned BCS championship even though the SEC dominates it. 

They score two on the Huskers and while it pisses Will off, that’s pretty much mitigated by the 48 points his boys put on the board. He’s always struggled with away games but here they are in the heart of Wildcats territory putting a hurting on them in a way that can hardly be believed. His boys are _good_ this year and Will is just naive enough to think they can go all the way. They can _do_ this and he can come home with that BCS crown. 

(Maybe MacKenzie can put that in her book. That’d be a coup.) 

Afterward, he presses through the crowds to get away from the ESPN reporters to find the only reporter he gives a damn about. He spots MacKenzie in her Huskers shirt and sweeps her up into his arms, making her giggle because it’s right out in front of everyone. Will doesn’t give a damn. He loves this woman more than he can possibly say and he has no problem with showing that on national goddamn television. 

“I love you!” he shouts over the crowd, eyes bright and smile even brighter. “I love you, MacKenzie McHale!”


	8. thwarted by texas

_October 10, 2010_

This week is Texas and while they’re not ranked, Will knows his program has a shitty record against Texas. It’s like there’s just something about the Longhorns that the Cornhuskers can’t get over and he’s been spending most of the past three days reviewing films until his eyes bleed. He’s been short with everyone, including MacKenzie, and he hopes he can make it up to her. 

It’s late and MacKenzie is in bed. She’s started sleeping over more regularly of late and he’s glad for it; while he’s not looking for her to move in or anything, it’s really nice to have the intimacy of sharing a bed and a house with someone and for a relationship to be more than just having sex. He and MacKenzie are comfortable together and it’s something he wants to continue. Oh yes. He wants...he wants much more than he should with MacKenzie and he knows that the easiest way to get his heart broken again is to go falling head over heels for another woman. Still. He just can’t help himself where she’s concerned.

He makes his way back to the bedroom and just watches her for half a second before crawling back into bed. MacKenzie is sprawled on her back and her mouth is open just a little as if she had something to say and just fell asleep right in the middle of it. Will chuckles a little under his breath when MacKenzie rolls over and presses right up against him as soon as he’s back in bed; she isn’t awake but it’s like she’s got some kind of sixth sense when it comes to him and she always wants to be as much in his space as she can possibly be. Will is okay with that. He’s more than resigned himself to the fact that he’s in love with her and even says it out loud in front of people, which is more progress than he ever expected to make on that particular front. He loves MacKenzie - no question. 

“Why are you still awake?” MacKenzie doesn’t open her eyes and her voice is thick and muddled with sleep. Will brushes his hand against her cheek and snuggles down into the bed, fully intending to rectify the whole awake situation as soon as he can get comfortable. It’s different, sharing a bed after sleeping alone for so many years, and he hasn’t quite gotten used to having MacKenzie dozing next to him at night. It’s an adjustment to get used to the simple act of sharing space with someone else, coordinating where all the arms and legs are going to go, and he sighs a little.

“Because. Longhorns.” MacKenzie huffs a little and rolls over, pillowing her head against his chest, and she murmurs a little before finally dropping back off to sleep. 

“Football tomorrow. Sleep now.”

Yes ma’am.

_October 11th, 2010_

Monday is Will’s day off. He always, always tries to take the day off from anything even remotely related to football but Texas has gotten into his head and he can’t shake it. He used to work for them as an offensive lines coach and he realizes he basically taught them how to beat the shit out of Nebraska. Great. Granted, plenty of people have come and gone since then but a lot of the coaching staff is the same and they apparently remember how to grind the Cornhuskers into the dust. And it’s in his head. And he can’t get it _out_ of his head. 

He tries to carefully sneak out of bed to get up and watch more films and he thinks he’s going to get away with it when he feels MacKenzie’s hand clamp around his wrist. “Don’t you even think about it, buster. Get back in this bed. You are, under no circumstances, watching films or writing plays or contemplating anything that has to do with Nebraska football today. Today’s our day off.”

He thinks it’s a lot easier for MacKenzie to take a day off. While she’s writing the book, she’s freelancing for a few papers and her schedule is flexible so she can follow him around like a little duckling. It’s incredibly easy for her to take Mondays off with him and, even more so, it’s easy for her to say that they don’t need to think about football. But Will can’t stop thinking about it. He’s wound up tight and he’s not sure that anything is really going to alleviate that other than stepping out onto the field and winning on Saturday afternoon.

“What do you suggest I think about?” MacKenzie laughs throatily and tugs him down against her. Will has never liked crushing a woman under him in bed but there is something strangely satisfying about being on top of MacKenzie right now, about feeling her soft body up under his. She runs her hands down his back and kisses him hard enough that he’s seeing stars and feels more than a little dazed once he manages to drag his mouth away from hers and take a breath. Is oxygen deprivation a side effect of kissing? He thinks it’s possible with the way that MacKenzie kisses. 

Will has always liked a good kiss. There’s something intimate about sharing breath with another person and there’s something incredibly satisfying about cupping a woman’s face in his hands and learning her through the press of her lips and the slide of her tongue. MacKenzie likes to use her teeth when she kisses, little nips and nibbles here and there, and it’s almost like she wants to leave an indelible mark on him so he knows it was _her_ kissing him and nobody else; Will has absolutely no qualms with being tagged and marked as hers because he’s been hers since she first showed up. 

Will settles so that his thighs are cradling her hips and most of his weight is on his elbows before kissing her again. MacKenzie is soft and yielding under him and she kisses like she has all the time in the world and there is no place she’d rather be other than under him. The attention she gives him makes him a little drunk and Will suspects that this, among other things, is why he is so goddamned attracted to her. For someone who spent most of his life never living up to what his father wanted, attention without any strings attached is dangerously intoxicating.

“I love you,” Will murmurs. He waits a half a moment to give her a chance to say it back. He’s said it twice now and shown it in every way he can think to show it but MacKenzie hasn’t said it yet. Maybe she has trouble with the words; Will usually has trouble with them himself, especially considering just how damn messy his divorce had been. He brushes his thumb along the line of her cheekbone and watches her, drinking in everything that he loves about her. He loves that little smile she gets when she’s especially pleased, the one that makes her eyes crinkle up at the corners. He loves those big brown eyes and long lashes, loves how she can manage to look like both a grown woman and a little girl all at the same time. He loves her. 

“I know,” MacKenzie whispers back. “Just because I’ve not said it doesn’t...it’s just not something I say lightly. When I say it, I want to mean it with my whole heart. It doesn’t mean anything if I’m not there completely but I think...what I feel for you? I feel more for you than I’ve ever felt for anyone in my life. I think I’m going to be ready soon. I’m going to say it soon.” Will wonders why she won’t just say it _now_ if she feels like she’s in love with him but he guesses he can’t push it. If she needs time to be able to give the words with her whole heart behind them, he’s kind of an ass if he can’t give her the time to work it out.

“Look forward to hearing it,” Will says, trying to bury his disappointment in kissing her again. MacKenzie whimpers under him and threads her fingers in his hair, tugging lightly, and that just spurs him on to kiss her deeper and to move his hands all over her. He’s drowning in her again, letting himself get completely consumed by her, and he thinks it’s probably a bad idea to get in this far over his head when MacKenzie herself seems unsure about how strongly she feels and how deep she wants to fall. 

The thrill of being with her is like throwing a Hail Mary with less than ten seconds on the clock and Will is very well aware that Hail Marys don’t always win games. It’s just the thrill of the attempt, for the most part, and 90% of it is faith. He’s willing to throw his 90% in with MacKenzie’s feelings and he prays that’ll be enough. 

He’s in too deep to lose her now.

_October 16th, 2010_

Will has something gnawing in his stomach and an impending sense of doom about this damn game. He’s been popping Tums since he woke up this morning and he thinks that something is probably going to go wrong. Something really, really feels like it’s going to go wrong and he doesn’t know if it’s just his usual gameday jitters or if this is some kind of premonition. He’d met with the Texas coaches earlier, old friends, and they had good-naturedly ribbed one another about the game. He thinks he should have skipped the meeting and gone straight into his office to work on plays until game time but it’s water under the bridge now. 

The first quarter goes by and his boys choke in the red zone. Texas is owning in time of possession and manages to get ten on the board without any answer from Nebraska. If they can’t keep the goddamn offense on the field, he’s not going to be able to win the game and the defensive line already looks tired. Fuck. It’s not a good situation.

They manage a single, solitary field goal in the second quarter and Texas gets another touchdown. Any hopes Will might have about them botching the extra point go unanswered and they’re down 17-3. Great. Fucking fantastic. He rips off his headset and marches into the locker room after the team, laying into them about not being able to slow down their offense. They’re not even ranked, for fuck’s sake, and Nebraska is the fifth ranked team in the country. 

MacKenzie is mostly silent. She normally peppers him with questions during games but she seems to have picked up on just how black his mood is and seems to be steering clear, busying herself with taking photos on the field instead of asking anything of anyone. She speaks to Lonny for a moment or two, writing something down, and then goes back to her cameras. Will is vaguely aware that he should possibly apologize, to her, anyway, but he can’t right now. He needs to get through this game with a W in his column and then he can apologize for any perceived assholishness. MacKenzie is just going to have to bear with him.

After the half, it gets marginally better. They get another field goal and manage to keep Texas to just a field goal so it’s 20-6. It’s a two touchdown game, more or less, and if they can manage to get another two TDs and a field goal, they can win this thing. It’s doable. He’s seen his offense do much more under much worse conditions and it seems like Texas’s defense is flagging as much as his own. That’s a good thing - attrition has won a hell of a lot more football games than skill. 

When the fourth rolls around, they finally manage to put a TD on the board but it’s just not enough. It’s 20-13 in favor of Texas and the home crowd is putting off an aura of disbelief. This is _Texas_. They’re not even ranked this season and this should have been a game easily won, not a home game lost. Losing a home game is something Will never wants to do. From a financial standpoint, the crowds don’t come out to see losing teams and if you’re going to lose, it’s best to do it on the road. There’s a cloying sense of disappointment and anger from the fans in the stands as they start clearing out and it only makes Will’s mood blacker than usual. Great. Apologizing to MacKenzie isn’t going to come easily now. 

MacKenzie presses a little piece of paper into his hand just before he gets swept up into interview after interview and when he finally extricates himself from reporters, he opens his hand and spreads out the note; he can’t help but smile just a little.

_I love you. - M._


End file.
